Many Mansions
by Pharoah'sCat
Summary: I have enjoyed getting reacquainted with the High Chaparral gang, thanks to their sudden appearance in reruns on tv. I enjoy all the characters but am most intrigued by the John & Victoria relationship, especially in the first season. This is my take of how they might have gotten from where they started in The Arrangement to where they are by Threshold of Courage.
1. Chapter 1

Many Mansions

Chapter 1

By Pharoah's Cat

_Author's Note: Beyond what I wrote in the FF summary, this story weaves though the first season. It refers to incidents and comments in other episodes, but it exists outside specific episodes. Since the writers of the show are pretty inconsistent about the time line of John & Victoria's relationship, I didn't hold myself to any higher standard, except to say that it concludes before A Joyful Noise. Buck, Blue and Mano all make appearances but this is really John and Victoria's…and Annalee's story. And, as I said, only the last chapter rates a MA rating…which they don't even seem to feature anymore and I don't know how to rate individual chapters. Slow on the tech draw. And as ever, not my characters/no copyright infringement intended._

They were trapped. John Cannon and Victoria Montoya Cannon were trapped in a marriage that was part political necessity, part familial exchange and part military alliance. It was a marriage of no convenience at all since it followed hard on the heels of the death of the much beloved spouse of the reluctant groom. Such a union would have tested the most Machiavellian of European courts. But this wasn't 1500s Europe. This was the Arizona territory of the 1870s and the marriage was between a proud Mexican dynasty in the making and an American upstart with a dream so distant only he could see it.

Age, background, temperament, and simple lack of proximity would have never brought them together. And even if some mischievous god had arranged such a union, they would most likely, have settled into, at best, benign indifference. But though this was a marriage of political convenience, it was not a loveless marriage. For Victoria loved John almost from the first moment she met him, and John, though trying to thrash his way through grief and loss … and no little guilt … found himself irresistibly drawn to the beautiful young woman who had so suddenly appeared in his life. John and Victoria could not seem to move toward each other but neither did they stand a chance of being able to pull apart. And so they lived in the same house in a state of strained tension; sharing meals, heat, dust, Apache raids, bandit attacks; a bedroom but not a marriage bed.

Victoria tried. Oh, how she tried. She had known from her first dinner with this stiff yet gallant American that she loved him. She had fallen in love faster and harder than she would have ever thought possible. And she knew he was attracted to her as well. It would be impossible not to know. The air between them was as charged as the air after the most violent of desert thunderstorms. They way he looked at her at times made her flush with desire.

So she tried…she tried with kindness, with patience, with care for his brooding son, Blue, who could be sullen and resentful one moment and helplessly vulnerable at others. At times, she thought her new brother-in-law Buck was an ally. But he was too unpredictable, too given to bouts of drinking and carousing…much like her own brother Manolito… to depend on. So, she was alone, often feeling like a "visitor" at the High Chaparral. And nothing she did could break through to what Mano referred to as this 'granite block' of a man.

She knew the problem of course. The first Mrs. Cannon. She was dead and buried but she loomed over almost every aspect of her life with John. Sometimes she hated the late Annalee and sometimes she despaired of ever living up to her husband's memory of her and sometimes she prayed to her for help. But just when she thought some truce with a dead woman had been reached, some new flash point of misunderstanding would trip her up; chairs and wind chimes, table manners, and even something as simple as a list of supplies. For each half step forward, it seemed she and John always stumbled backwards.

And so she and John, Blue, Buck and Manolito, all moved through the house they shared as if on eggshells. Forced politeness. Awkward silences. The strain told on everyone. Buck, Mano and even Blue took increasing refuge in the bunkhouse. Leaving John and Victoria ever more isolated in their mutual misunderstanding.

This day, they were trying to talk, once again, about supplies; simple and unemotional enough. But somehow, as so often happened, the conversation had taken a decided turn in to the landscape of the fraught.

"Yes, you said last time I forgot to order Comino…so I put it on the list this time," John explained, with the kind of reasoned patience that infuriated her. But she strove to match his tone. "I know…but see here…you have ordered yellow corn meal…that is not right, we need the white." Before he could interrupt… and she knew he would…since he would not remotely understand the need for different corn meals, she continued, "And you ordered way too much…"

But now he did interrupt…"I just don't know what we need cornmeal and all these spices for anyway…the men do just fine on potatoes and beans…"

"Beans!" She sputtered in exasperation…"you seem to enjoy the tacos I make and so do the men! You must let me make the shopping list at least! If I am to run our household!"

"Its MY HOUSEHOLD. John growled. "And, Annalee never ordered…"

"Yes, yes, YOUR household," Victoria nearly screamed…"Yours and Annalee's. I know, I know…Mio Dios you remind me often enough!"

She turned from him and took several steps away. When she turned back to face him her eyes were filled with tears.

"I love you John Cannon but you fill my heart with pain. You stood in this room in front of my father and brother, and said you wanted me to stay, but you treat me as if you want me a million miles away. I think you would rather embrace a …a…a… rattlesnake as your wife. "

John's expression flickered instantaneously from frustration to astonishment.

In two long strides he was looming over her. Before she could react he pulled her to him in a kiss so long and searing it left them both gasping for breath when he finally stepped back. He stared down at her, eyes burning with intensity but said nothing. Finally, Victoria said, barely above a whisper, "You're hurting my arms." John dropped his hands from her as if they burned and said simply, "I'm sorry."

"Its alright," she said softly.

"No!" He almost shouted, shaking his head. "It most certainly is NOT all right. My God, Victoria, the last thing I would want on this earth is to hurt you."

He half turned and took a few steps away from her and when he turned back, this time it was his face that was filled with despair.

"Don't you understand? I have wanted you since the first moment that you walked into your father's dining room on Mano's arm."

"Then…?" She started to say, but he spoke over her.

"And my wife of over 20 years, the mother of my son, the woman I loved…I STILL love…had not been dead for a month. I feel like I have completely betrayed Annalee."

John took a deep breath. "You didn't know Annalee, but we had more than Blue together. We had a _life_ together. We had years of shared dreams and hardships. She…she… put me back together again after the war. I came home broken by all the bloodshed, all the terror and waste and she put me back together. And I never had the chance to mourn her... to mourn my _wife_. The way she deserved; the way I needed. Need. I have betrayed everything we had together."

"No…"

"I can't do this…I want you…I need the alliance with your father… but I can't do this. It feels like I am being torn to pieces. "

John grabbed his hat and strapped on his gun as he headed for the door.

"Where are you going? It will be dark soon." Victoria's voice edged into panic. "You always say no one should go out after dark alone."

He didn't look back as he bolted out the door.

Outside, the light was just beginning to fade as John headed for the corral to saddle his horse.

"Hey Big John! Where ya goin'? Buck called from the bunkhouse doorway.

When John didn't respond, Buck strolled over, finishing a chicken leg as he walked.

As he drew closer, Buck took note of his brother's stoney expression.

Carefully, Buck asked again, "Where ya going?"

"For a ride."

"Now? Gettin' kinda dark, ain't it?"

John finished cinching the saddle girth and started to mount.

"John …" Buck said gently, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

John whirled on him as if he had been stabbed. He stared at Buck, but said nothing; simply turned back to mount.

Buck stepped back. Long years of fraternal conflicts had finely tuned his ability to read his brother's mood; the twitching jaw muscle and, even more, the ominous silence. A loud John Cannon, growling and yelling was formidable; an angry but quiet John could be downright dangerous.

"Well," said Buck, "be careful."

John kicked his horse into full stride and galloped out of the compound.

Buck turned and saw Victoria standing in the ranch house doorway, her face a mask of hopelessness as she watched her husband ride away. With a sigh he headed back to the bunkhouse.

John tore off into the desert with no real idea of where he was going. Finally, he drew his horse down to a sedate walk and simply let the animal choose the path.

Buck had warned him, he recalled...standing by Annalee's grave…John had tried to explain that he needed more time. And Buck had said, "well, alright, but I just hope you don't need more time than you got." _But how much time was that? And how much time to mourn someone loved and lived with for over 20 years? Was there some sort of magic number of weeks or months…or years…he didn't know about? _

And yet, Buck was right in a way…no matter what the right amount of time might be…John felt it running out. It was not fair to anyone to go on this way. Not to Annalee's memory, not to the ranch, certainly not to Victoria, not even himself_. Dammit! Why couldn't it just be a purely political alliance? Why couldn't Victoria be just a woman who he could simply be polite to, as he went about his life while she went about hers?_

Instead he found himself married to a woman who astonished him every day with her beauty, intelligence and passion. He told her he had accepted the fact that Annalee was gone. He even shared a bed with her, but could not reach for her; Annalee was always between them. In a way, it seemed a fitting punishment for his betrayal.

_And whose fault was that?_ he demanded of himself. _Not Annalee's, not Victoria's…no, it was all on him. For that matter, when it came right down to it, so was Annalee's death. What possible right did he have to drag her out into the middle of a war zone? To put her in harm's way, and young Blue into a life where he had seen more violence and bloodshed in a few months than most men see in a lifetime._ _What right had he and his damned dream to do that?_

"Señor Cannon?" John was so deep in his own thoughts that he had nearly ridden right into Pedro.

"Pedro? What are you doing here?" John looked around, wondering just where 'here' was, exactly.

"Me, Boss?" Pedro was equally puzzled. "I am riding night herd. Sam and Joe and the others are camped just past that arroyo."

John looked up and noted the sky had darkened into an indigo blue crossed with streaks of gold and purple, and that a decent sized herd of his own cattle were milling about and settling into the familiar routine of night.

"Night herd, huh?"

"Si."

"Well, you go tell Sam that I relieved you and after that you can go back to the ranch."

"But, boss…" Pedro began. One look from John stopped him. "Si Señor."

A few minutes later, as John circled the herd to get a good minds' eye lay of the land before darkness, Sam rode over.

"I just wanted to make sure Pedro didn't dream it." Sam explained. "And that you were really here."

"Well, you've seen." Said John shortly.

"Yup. Night Mr. Cannon."

Left alone, John tried to let his mind simply drift. The slow rhythm of his horse, the huffs and shuffles of the cattle gradually worked to ease the tension. Eventually, he felt he could at least breath again.

After the sun had fully set and the desert chill was setting in, he dismounted to get his jacket from behind his saddle. Shrugging into it he glanced up where an uncountable number of stars were just blinking on. And at that moment a memory descend on him with such clarity it almost knocked him to his knees.

He and Annalee were "walking out," not yet engaged. And one warm Virginia evening they strolled in the sweet smelling meadow behind her father's home. The stars were out in force that night too. And Annalee was laughing…laughing at him and his helpless attempt to tell one constellation from another. Her father was a teacher and he had taught his smart and lovely daughter the names of many of the constellations and the stars they held. But, despite her best and frequent efforts, John had been unable to master more than the Big and Little Dippers and the North Star.

"No, no," she said between small bursts of laughter, "that is Cassiopeia! Scorpio is over THERE." She pointed, still laughing, to a patch of sky that to John looked precisely like every other patch of sky. "Now look, there is Cygnus the swan and Aquila the eagle. They face each other this time of year. See?"

"No," said John, rather morosely. Which caused Annalee to laugh again.

"Honestly, John Cannon, for a man who spends as much time outdoors as you do, it just amazes me that you haven't learned more about the stars. They are important for finding your way… as well as beautiful", she pointed out, gazing up at him so earnestly and with such guileless loveliness his heart melted. Again.

"Well," he said, in some desperation, "Why should I bother to learn when I have you to show me?"

She smiled and stood on her tiptoes. "Yes, John, you have me to show you," she whispered and brushed her lips past his on the way to leave a gentle kiss on his cheek.

The memory of that night, those stars, those lips soft against his, his young heart thudding against his chest so hard he thought it might well burst right through, finally broke him.

He flung his arms around his horse's neck for support and wept into its mane. Tears rushing out of him so hard he thought they would never stop. And for a long time they didn't stop, while his horse stood patiently enduring this unusual burden.

But finally, as with all tears, there was an end. John wiped his face on his sleeve and took a deep, shaky breath.

He got back on his horse and began a slow circuit around the herd. After a while he let his horse do the familiar work and spent as much time gazing at the stars as he did at his surroundings.

He still didn't know the names of any of the stars but now he gave them his own names. That one over there - his wedding night. And the one twinkling at him just above the horizon - the night Blue was born. One there for one of the few angry fights that he and Annalee had ever had. What had it been about, he wondered?

Over there, that small group - the morning Annalee managed to tip an entire sack of flour over herself; her indignation as he and Blue laughed and the way she smiled when she joined in the laughter. A star for the look on her face when he rode off to war and another one for the look when he returned. On and on, memories large and small, floating up and each he tagged to a star. He dismounted to give his horse and himself a rest, leaned back against a desert boulder and counted more stars and memories. Letting them all wash over him. He remounted and kept remembering.

When the sun just tipped the horizon, he had long since lost track of the stars, but he didn't much care and he knew he had more memories and stars to count. He could hear the cattle moving and the sounds of the ranch hands making their way from the campsite to get the herd moving to fresh grass.

"Boss?" It was Joe. "Sam sent me to relieve you."

John just nodded and turned his horse toward last night's campsite. He passed Sam on the way and told him he would ride night herd again tonight and would catch up with the herd.

"You gonna camp out here alone?"

"Yes. I'll catch up with you at Thunderhead tonight. Leave some grub where you were."

Sam took a breath as if he was about to say something, but the look on his boss's unshaved face stopped him again, and he just nodded and rode back to leave a few supplies..

After Sam left, John did get an hour or so of restless sleep and managed to swallow a few spoonfuls of cold beans but mostly he sat in the shade and stared into the desert. For some reason he could not seem to conjure up memories with the clarity that had come to him in the night so he just let him mind wander; into the past, the present, the future and when he could manage it, absolutely nothing at all.

That night, he caught up with the herd and when the stars came out, as he and his horse took up their circuit, he took up his survey of the stars and his life with Annalee. Some of the memories hit him like a mule kick to the gut; how he and Annalee had mourned two daughters who died before they had much chance at living. And then there were times that he heard himself laughing out loud at some long forgotten moment of happiness. The poignancy of all that he had and all that he had lost nearly overwhelmed him at times.

Finally, sometime just before dawn, he found that he had fallen asleep in the saddle and almost slid off. He shook himself awake but knew that tired men make mistakes and mistakes in this part of the country often proved deadly.

So when Buck showed up, jaw set in determination to haul him back to Chaparral by the heels if necessary, before his brother could say anything, John growled, "About time." And turned his horse for home leaving his exasperated brother in his dust.

When he got back to the ranch, he strode through the house and headed directly for the bedroom. Victoria moved to intercept him. She had been frantic with worry ever since he left, even after she learned he was with the herd, and had just persuaded Buck to try and talk him back this morning.

But he barely slowed as he made his way upstairs. Still, when he passed her, he touched her arm gently, and something like tenderness was in his expression as he told her he was just going to sleep for a while.

"A while" tuned out to be nearly 10 straight hours. And when he arose ranch life went back to what had become their uncomfortable normal. Except; perhaps the overall level of tension had eased just a notch, like a saddle girth loosened at the end of a long ride. John's courtesy toward his wife was tinged with something like real warmth and everyone in the household seemed able to breathe just a little easier.


	2. Many Mansions, Chapter 2

Many Mansions

Chapter 2.

By Pharoahs'Cat

_Authors note: I was going to try and mash up the next 3 chapters, which feature Blue, Mano and Buck, because I struggle so with the site upload song and dance. ( For instance, I forgot to go back in and add the scene breaks in Chapter 1 and It makes it tough to read.) But it just got too unwieldy. Anyway, here is Chapter 2 of 5._

* * *

A week or so after his nights under the stars, when he knew Victoria was deep in dinner preparations, John told Blue he had a job for him. Blue warily followed his father upstairs…'wariness' pretty much being his default position when it came to dealing with this father.

Without preamble, John said, "I am going to move your mother's trunk to the storage room. But before I do, I want us to go through it and I want you to take anything from it you want. All right?"

Blue nodded nervously and felt tears gather…any mention of his mother still did that…but he shook them off and helped his father move the trunk to the center of the room.

He sat on the chair and his father sat on the edge of the bed, with his mother's trunk between them. Very fitting, Blue thought...but said nothing.

The first thing that came to hand when John opened the lid was one of Annalee's few good hats. Her Sunday church hat. John put it aside and together they carefully lifted what seemed to be simply a few of her nicer dresses, folded between layers of thin linen cloth. A pair of long gloves and some old fashioned shoes. A soft wool shawl, in a perfect shade of blue. And to both their astonishment, her wedding dress… so carefully protected it still glowed white. John stood and held the dress out and smiled at how small it seemed to him. Gently, he folded the dress back up and slipped it back into its protective coverings.

"You should keep this boy," he said handing the dress to Blue. Blue looked up, surprised. "The girl you marry someday might like to have it."

Blue couldn't possible imagine such a situation but he dutifully took the dress.

Working their way through the trunk, the next surprise was some drawings. Some childhood scribbles of Blue's but also some delicate drawings of flowers and landscapes; even one of what could only be an ocean view; dunes and cresting waves. It was lovely.

"I didn't know Ma drew." said Blue

"I did." responded John, sadly "But I had forgotten."

"I think I would like to keep these," Blue said hopefully.

"That's fine."

They had almost reached the bottom of the trunk. Annalee's Bible was there...with some eastern wild flowers pressed in its pages and Blue's birth carefully recorded in the front.

Two other births were recorded as well. A daughter, Sarah Louise, born 2 years before Blue, who had died after only a year. And another birth…when Blue was 2, also a daughter, who had been stillborn. She had been named Emily Claire.

Blue looked up at his father in astonishment. "Why didn't you ever tell me that I had sisters?" He demanded.

John had winced at seeing the names and the dates. The deaths had been especially difficult blows. For both he and Annalee. The stillborn daughter had sent Annalee into a period of such deep and long lived sadness he worried for her sanity. But finally, she had broken through…come back to he and Blue …and though the memories of their daughters still haunted him occasionally, he knew they had haunted Annalee more.

But to Blue, he merely said. "You didn't. They didn't get a chance to be your sisters."

Blue persisted. "What did they look like?"

John sighed as if he was going to brush the question away, but then said, "Emily Claire was stillborn. She looked like a sleeping baby. Sarah…well, she…she looked like your mother. They way you do."

Blue nodded and seemed to accept this. "I'd like to keep the Bible too."

"Fine."

The last item…at the very bottom of the trunk…was a framed sampler; tiny blue and green stitching depicting flowers woven into a border. And in the center, larger and in a darker blue, was "In My Father's House are Many Mansions." And then, in smaller letters, "John 14:2-3. "

"Look", said Blue, pointing to the corner, "there is her name...and a date! Wow - how old would she have been then?"

John did the quick math…"oh, just about 10."

Blue looked up and smiled. "That's pretty good work for a ten year old."

"Yes it is", John agreed.

"I want to keep this too," Blue said. "Pa! Wait..I remember.., this is what Uncle Buck read when we buried"…he stumbled over the word buried.. "Ma." Quickly he thumbed though the Bible until he got to the right part of the Gospel of John…

He read aloud. "In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you."

"Do you think he knew about this?!"

John considered that for a bit, but finally shook his head. "I don't think so. I think he just picked that verse because…well because it was like your mother; kind and loving.

"Yes" Blue agreed. "Just like her."

Slowly, the two began to repack the trunk. First out was last back in…Annalee's hat.

"Pa?"

"Yeah?"

"That's about the silliest looking hat I ever saw." Blue said with a laugh.

"Yes it is," John agreed…it most definitely is," joining in his son's laughter.

The two of them took the trunk to the storage room and then went back for Blue to gather up his keepsakes. As he was leaving with them, his father suddenly said, "Take this chair as well."

John picked up the small upholstered chair and headed off towards' Blue's room.

"Your room is a little bare…and this might come in handy. Spruce it up a bit."

Blue's eyebrow's shot up. He didn't think he had ever heard his father use the word "spruce." in any context other than that of a tree.

* * *

Victoria knew that John and Blue had been upstairs together. (She was not so deep in dinner preparations to miss that.) But she had no idea what they had been doing. She almost went up to find out, but managed to keep away and was pleasantly surprised to hear Blue…AND John …laughing together about something. The simmering tension between them rarely seemed to leave any room for laughter.

So she was genuinely surprised when she entered her bedroom and discovered Annalee's trunk gone; as well as the chair, the placement of which she and John had spent a ridiculous amount of time arguing about.

"I thought you might like to be able to make it more..." He hesitated. "…more your own."

John had come up behind her quietly and was leaning on the door frame as he spoke.

She turned to face him with a hopeful smile. "Si. Thank you."

"Maybe you could even find room for some of the things you brought with you from your father's?" He suggested, tentatively. "If you do, well, Buck and Blue and I could get them out of storage."

Victoria struggled to contain her emotions. He heart was leaping to her throat with joy over this sudden acknowledgment of her needs or even just her presence. But she felt she must tread gently…as if John were a skittish horse who might easily bolt. She knew something was changing with him, some elemental shift was underway and she didn't want take a chance on somehow saying the wrong thing.

So she simply said, "That is very thoughtful of you. I will think about what might be right for here…for High Chaparral."

He smiled at her and then left her alone with her thoughts …and her hopes.

* * *

A few days later, Buck and John and Blue moved a small dressing table and an elegant armoire from where they had languished since their arrival at Chaparral, into John and Victoria's bedroom. In the dining room, the blue willow breakfast dishes found themselves in the company of a more elegant dinner set. A new sofa and sofa covering appeared in the living room, as well a few small prints and one larger painting on the walls. Curtains fluttered in the warm wind, letting in more light.

And a lightened mood as well took hold in the house. More and more often, Blue, Buck and Mano deserted the bunkhouse to join Victoria and John at dinner and breakfast. "Besides," Mano pointed out, "my sister is a much better cook than Pedro."

"Much, MUCH better," Buck agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Many Mansions

Chapter 3

By Pharoah'sCat

_Author's note: In the spirit of 'another county heard from,' Manolito makes an appearance and maybe a difference._

* * *

A week or so after some new furniture and a modest increase in warmth arrived at High Chaparral, John waited with 2 horses and growing impatience for Manolito to join him on a trip scouting mustang herds. John hadn't really known what to make of Mano when he accompanied Victoria from the Montoya ranch. Protector? Spy? Something else? John hadn't decided whether his new brother in law was a blessing or a curse or just a horse thief. He had quickly learned, however, that the seemingly feckless young man who seemed to prefer laughter above everything, also possessed an unwavering courage, as well as an invaluable ability to speak Apache, and a keen eye for horse flesh. Which is why he had specifically asked Manu to join him scouting the wild horses.

The other thing about Mano, John reflected as he waited, was how much the younger man seemed to have in common with his own brother Buck, including but not limited to an inordinate thirst for whiskey or tequila, and women of a certain…well, really ALL women when it came to that…and an overall tendency toward carousing. As patience was not his long suit, John was just coming to the end of his when Mano finally emerged from the house…walking slowly, squinting into the morning sun and making soft moaning noises.

He made his way over to his horse but made no attempt to mount, simply clinging to the pommel and swaying slightly.

"Rough night in Tucson?" John inquired sarcastically.

"Ow…Señor Cannon…please do not shout." Mano responded, wincing dramatically. "The night in Tucson was fine, it is the day that I find…painful."

"I'll try not to shout " John whispered as he swung aboard his horse.

With an exaggerated sigh, Mano managed to clamber aboard his horse as well.

A half hour later, after a brief stop at a watering hole where Mano dumped an entire hatful of water over his head, the younger man's usual ebullient spirits where beginning to reassert themselves. His moaning was replaced by bird calls and random comments and snatches of songs. John simply couldn't ever stay annoyed at Mano for long...he was too good a companion.

"Ah…the señoritas of Tucson…they do require so much attention." Mano said apropos of nothing.

"Seems to me the wine gets almost as much attention" John commented drily.

"Si, Si…well one must be a generous companion, no? And wine is so relaxing, is it not?"

John just snorted in reply.

"Si… I like the señoritas and they like me. I am as a" …Mano considered his metaphor… "como se dice, 'abeja'?"

John laughed. "Bumble bee."

"No, no. The other one…um…miel?"

"Honey Bee…going from flower to flower?"

"Honey bee! Yes…I like this." Mano agreed enthusiastically, laughing as the two men rode side by side.

One of the things that John found most disconcerting about his brother in law…for all his charm and good qualities…was his ability to switch instantaneously from the mundane to the profound, the frivolous to the deeply serious, and Mano now took just such a turn.

"Of course," he said in a completely different tone of voice…. a voice somehow both serious and slightly sad…"someday I hope to have a different sort of relationship with a woman; someone I can love and honor…cherish and protect. Someone who feels as deeply for me as I do for her. A great love," he finished softly.

As usual, Mano's turn on an emotional dime left John totally flummoxed and he could only mumble…"Well, I am sure you will find that some day."

Mano had ridden slightly ahead of John as they talked and now, without warning he reined his horse directly in front of him, so abruptly that John was forced to pull up hard.

"My sister is a very beautiful woman is she not?" He demanded of John.

And again, John found himself two steps behind and utterly baffled by what seemed a totally different topic. And a totally obvious question.

"Of course she is," he responded indignantly.

Mano pushed his hat back and looked thoughtfully at John. "You know, she had many, many suitors." He put his hand up to ward off any interruption. "Some my father ushered to our door…many others found their own way there. Rich, poor, everything in between, young and not so young…peons and aristocrats."

"Most of them she dismissed with a flick of her wrist. With a few, there was a flirtation; the possibility of something more"

"Like Tony Gray," John managed to interrupt.

Mano smiled. "Si, like Tony Gray. But even those who she deigned to flirt with, even the passionate day dreams of a young girl, she soon set away. But John," and here Mano's use of his first name, as well as the way the younger man was now gazing at him with utter seriousness, threw John even further off balance, "never once did I see Victoria look at ANY man the way she looks at you. Or," he continued after a brief pause, "the way you look at her when you think no one sees."

John narrowed his eyes at Mano, about to protest his sense of privacy being invaded, but Mano went calmly on.

"I do not know if it is a sin against God to turn your back on such love, but I do know that it is a crime against nature. And an unforgivable waste. If you cannot love my sister the way she loves you…the way she deserves to be loved, then I beg you to let her go."

The two men simply stared each other for a few moments. Mano's face now impassive while a range of emotions moved across John's normally stoic features; anger, surprise, and fear. For in truth, even the idea of letting Victoria 'go' filled him with near panic.

Suddenly Mano smiled broadly and pointed off to the north. "Look…there are the horses…ah, look at them run! We should go have a look, no?" And with that and a cry of delight, Mano kicked his horse into a gallop, chasing after a herd of mustangs that had appeared over the horizon.

John's horse wanted to join the chase too, and John had to fight to keep him reined in while he tried to catch his breath and force his emotions back down to where he most always managed to keep them. Finally, he was able to give his horse his head and gallop after Mano and the herd.


	4. Chapter 4

Many Mansions

Chapter 4

By Pharoah'sCat

* * *

_Author's note: In his own unique way, Buck Cannon gets a chance to put his oar in John's decisions or lack thereof. This is quite brief, but along with the preceding chapters, I hope it continues the path John might have taken to find his way to Victoria - who was waiting there all along. Next and last chapter should be up in a few days. (The comment about the Apaches needing as much to live for as die for comes from one of the very early season 1 episodes.)_

* * *

A couple of weeks later, Buck Cannon studied his older brother from a distance. He and Blue and John and most of the hands had spent the better part of a day moving the herd from one feeding ground to another. With the cattle settled, John had sent all but the night herders back to the ranch and had ridden off by himself, saying he was just going to check a survey point. Buck now found that John had dismounted and climbed a small promontory, where he stood gazing northeast as the sun began to set behind him. He was just standing there.

Buck left his horse near John's and scrambled up behind him.

"If I had been an A-patch, you'd be dead now," he informed his brother cheerfully.

John snorted in derision. "Not an Indian in the whole continent would make as much noise as you did."

Buck chuckled. "That's true enough. But ya know, John Boy, you been just standing and staring so long the buzzards might start to take an interest. Whatcha lookin' at?"

"The future."

Buck gazed out at a nearly featureless desert plateau. He could see a small oasis of green near the water hole they had just left, an arroyo and a great deal of cactus. What he didn't see was the future.

"We can build it all. John said firmly. "Towns, ranches, railroads, people, schools…everything."

"Its a desert." Buck pointed out, not unreasonably.

"Of course. That's why water is key. Even more so than the land. We will have to build an irrigation system that takes advantage of wet years to nourish the dry years. They did it in Babylon and Egypt, and I don't supposed we are any less smart than they were. But it is going to have to be a system that can sustain itself, or we will blow away with the dust like they did."

Still without looking at Buck, John continued, "Greed will be the problem of course."

"Of course," Buck said, feeling a little lost.

"Greed always digs away at the foundation of whatever good people build. But, if we plan it right, if there is law fairly enforced, if we make sure that everyone is treated fair... that calls for the best in us...maybe we can build a foundation that can withstand the worst in us."

"Hmmm…and where do the Apache and the Pima and the others fit into your future?"

John turned to face Buck for the first time. "I don't know," he said simply. "I still believe that there is a way for everyone to share this land. But if we can't figure out how to allow the Apaches as much to live for as die for, then …well maybe I was naive."

"About the Apache."

John shook his head. "No, about white men. I knew there was hatred and mistrust and fear. But I don't know how deep that hatred ran among whites; people are totally blind to the simple fact that the Apache and the other tribes are men, like any others…trying desperately to protect their lives, their land, their way of life."

"We're white men."

"Yeah…we are. And if I am wrong …if we …whites…can't find away to live in peace with the Apache then I will be as guilty as any, because no matter what happens, we are here and staying here and others will follow. There is probably an Apache looking out at this same place and seeing a very different future."

John sighed and looked at Buck with a kind of pained bewilderment.

"Sometimes I feel like every time there is a raid or a conflict, another nail goes into their coffin. And yet every time I manage to broker a truce, a peace, any kind of agreement, I am really only helping to set the nail."

John turned from Buck and resumed his gaze over the land. "But I can't seem to stop seeing what could be."

Buck shook his head. "Well, you always could see further out than any man I ever knew. Even when we were kids, you had that faraway look in your eye. Seeing something that the rest of us couldn't."

Buck was silent for a moment or so, and then continued.

"I'll tell you though, John, and it was true when we were kids and its true now; the problem with people who see so far ahead is that sometime they can't see what's right in front of them. Can't see the things… the people…that they don't even know they depend on to help get them that view."

John turned to face his brother again.

"Oh? Like what? Like who?" He demanded sharply.

Buck gazed at this brother calmly.

"Now, Brother John, you don't really need me to tell you that, do you?" It was more statement than question.

Before John could reply, Buck tightened the chinstrap on his hat.

"C'mon…let's get out of here…I could eat a buzzard myself…if they don't get to us first."


	5. Chapter 5

Many Mansions

Chapter 5

By Pharoah's Cat

_Author's note: First, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind and often insightful reviews. And thank you all for tracking this story down. I have just learned that if you rate a story 'M', FF doesn't place it within the 'canon.'(no pun intended.) In fact, this last, and final chapter, is the only one that deserves an 'M' rating. Looking at the arc of the John and Victoria relationship, it seems to me that Victoria must have come into her marriage as a virgin. I base this on the times, (the 1870s or so), her character and her deeply held religious faith. And that, it seems to me, must have added yet another potentially 'fraught' element for them both to navigate._

* * *

A few days later, the Cannon/Montoya clan was just finishing dinner. It has been a relaxed evening. For a change, things had been quiet at the ranch and the ongoing business of building a cattle operation had proceeded with a minimum of interruptions. Victoria's dinner had been especially well received by all and she was in the process of serving the pie she had made for dessert. She had served the four men, and was just cutting a piece for herself when the knife slipped and sliced into her thumb.

"Oh..Mia Madre!" She exclaimed quickly bringing the wound to her mouth to suck some of the blood away and then staunching it with a napkin. "Estupido!"

"Are you alright, Ma'am?" inquired Blue with genuine concern.

"Oh Si…finish the pie…I will just go and get a bandage. Eat, eat…" She smiled at them, but there was a catch in her voice as she retreated to the bedroom.

The others quickly went back to their pie, but after a bite or two, John stood up abruptly and followed his wife.

John watched Victoria from the door of their bedroom. She was standing with her back to him, fumbling with a small strip of linen as she tried to tie it around her wounded thumb, frowning in concentration.

"You know," he said, startling her, "you have proven yourself a wonderful nurse several times, but I don't think even you can tie a bandage on yourself with only one hand. Here…let me," he said, stepping into the room.

With great care, and surprising delicacy for such a big man, he knotted the bandage deftly around Victoria's thumb. Victoria looked up from the finished bandage to find John staring down at her with that intensity that always caused a warm flush to overtake her entire body. As often happened in such moments she found herself lost in the different shades of blue that mingled in his eyes; from cobalt to lapis to sky.

He kept hold of her hand, and gently kissed the palm. And then the inside of her wrist. And then he leaned down and kissed her on the lips; softly at first…and then with a growing passion. He tasted of the whiskey he had before dinner, and coffee and the cinnamon she had put in the pie. Victoria wove her arms around his neck and returned his passion with all of the desire that had built up since the very beginning of this strange marriage of inconvenience.

Years of marriage to Annalee…and even his time with Victoria…meant that John was no stranger to the fastenings of women's clothing and he easily…if slowly…began to work her blouse loose and off, while she went to work on the buttons of his shirt.

He stopped abruptly when he realized she was trembling.

"You're shaking," he said tenderly, as the blouse slipped from her arms.

"I am not afraid!" She looked up at him defiantly. But then she looked away. "Perhaps just a little nervous."

John sighed and smiled ruefully.

"So am I." he admitted.

"You are!?" She was utterly astonished.

"Victoria, I was married to the same woman for over twenty years and I was faithful to her. She was the only woman I was ever with. Unless…well, unless you count that time at the brothel that Buck and I stumbled into when we were kids. And to tell the truth, I doubt very much whether the woman there thought what happened counted…for anything. "

Victoria giggled slightly as she saw him blush.

Gently, he led her to the bed and they both sat.

"Didn't your mother tell you anything about…" he hemmed and hawed…"this?" He gestured vaguely to the bed they sat on.

She didn't look at him at first. "My mother died when I was 8 years old. " She lifted her chin and looked at him as she continued, almost by rote, "My duenna told me that it would hurt and there would be blood but it was every woman's duty to her husband." She hurried on, "And then in school, some of the older girls said other things but I don't think they knew any more than I did. When Mano and I were in Europe I heard some things but…." She looked back down again.

John took a deep breath. He really had no idea how to continue. As young newlyweds, he and Annalee had more or less fumbled their way to a satisfying physical relationship. But they had youth, mutual ignorance and time on their side. And trust. This was different. He was the older and more experienced partner and he knew that this moment was crucial in however his marriage to Victoria was going to evolve.

He also knew that it was possible he might actually explode with embarrassment in trying to work his way through this particular thicket. What happened between a man and a woman in the privacy of a bedroom was barely acknowledged…let alone spoken of aloud. He did not have the slightest idea how to help her…or himself…forward. But he had to try.

Gently he laid his hand on her arm. And she jumped nearly a foot. Now it was John who was the one with the skittish horse who might bolt at any time. But he kept his hand in place, and she turned to face him, though he eyes were still cast down.

"Well," he finally said, "I won't lie to you. For the woman, it does hurt and there is blood. But only a little blood. And it only hurts and there is only blood the first time."

"And, he continued, "after the first time, well, it should be about pleasure and the most wonderful kind of closeness between two people." He lifted her face to his. "I promise; I will not do anything you don't want me too and if you say stop I will stop." Though even as he said the words, given the way his body was responding to her nearness, he wasn't totally sure he would be able to stop. But he would try, even as his nearly overpowering desire vied with his very real fear of frightening or hurting her.

She nodded. Carefully he pushed the straps of her slip down her arms and found his breath taken away by her sheer beauty.

To his surprise, Victoria went back to loosening his shirt buttons and pulled his shirt up and out of his pants. She tried to do what he did…pushing his undershirt down over his arms…but his shoulders were too broad to accommodate the gesture. She surprised him again by simply tearing the shirt down the front and pushing it off. With the lightest of touches, she traced a long scar that ran from his shoulder, diagonally, half way down his chest.

"You will tell me about this scar someday?"

"Someday."

John swallowed hard as he reached to unfasten her hair, the black waves cascading down. He kissed her in the hollow of her collarbone and then just in front of her ear.

She gasped as his warm breath tickled her ear.

Victoria took his face in her hands and leaned into him with a whisper of a kiss. She placed both palms on his chest and slowly drew them down, until they rested on his belt buckle, gazing at him now with utter self-possession.

"I do not think I will ask you to stop. Ever."

* * *

Afterword

The next morning Mano paced and fidgeted in the house and between the bunkhouse and the house. After John had left the table last night, and when neither he nor Victoria had come back, he and Buck had exchanged a glance and taken themselves and Blue off to the bunkhouse. For a poker lesson they told him. The house has been quiet and dark when they returned several hours later.

Neither John nor Victoria were up at the usual hour, so the 3 men went back to the bunkhouse, without comment, for breakfast. Blue was puzzled, but wise enough to hold his own counsel and back neither Buck nor Mano into an uncomfortable corner.

Now however, Buck and Blue were outside, where John could be heard barking orders at the assembled hands. But Mano continued to fidget…going back to his room several times to retrieve things he had, in fact, not forgotten in the first place.

He was in a state of acute discomfort. He felt like some sort of perverted ghoul; waiting to hear about, what he was almost certain, was his sister's real wedding night. He didn't know for sure of course; but John's abrupt departure from the table, the fact that neither had re-emerged from their bedroom, and that both had not appeared for breakfast at the usual hour, made the scenario likely.

And even though he squirmed with embarrassment at just the thought, he could not leave. He loved his sister dearly and was deeply concerned for her welfare. He did not think John Cannon was a cruel or even thoughtless man, but he also did not think he was an especially sensitive one either. He had seen John… after grabbing a cold biscuit from the kitchen… leave the house to talk to the hands. Was his step a little lighter? Did his bark contain perhaps a little less bite?

He did not really know; for if Mano baffled John, then John was an enigma to Mano. The older man's rigidity…his 'block of granite' mien did not allow for much insight. Just occasionally, Mano had glimpsed more than the obvious courage and relentless honesty; often insight, sometimes compassion, doubt, and even occasionally a dry humor. But it was like having a window suddenly flung open to the real character of the man…only to have it slam down again before he could fully assess what he thought he had seen. And how was his sister…his beautiful 'old maid' sister to get through such a night with such a man?

And then there was his father. Just before they left Rancho Montoya to come here, Don Sebastion called Mano into his study for a hasty conference. "Please Mano…you must take care of Victoria!" His father seemed genuinely worried. Normally, anything that discomfited his father was manna from heaven for Mano, but this was different.

"Ah, Papa, has it just now occurred to you that you have given your only daughter to a complete stranger who does not even want a wife?"

"I did not give her…" the old lion started but Mano interrupted him with a derisive raised eyebrow.

"Yes, well, of course, I wanted the alliance…sort of…I wanted to test him….but I never thought he would actually accept and still less did I ever think Victoria would agree!"

Mano had mirrored his father's expression of surprise. And yet, he knew, even back then, that Victoria would never allow herself to be traded like chattel. She had wanted to go with this stranger. And she had confirmed that desire several times since their arrival at High Chaparral.

Still, his father had begged him to take care of her, and so he had, and so he would continue to take what care he could. Even if that included lurking outside her bedroom door to make sure she was all right.

Just at that moment, Victoria stepped quickly from the bedroom, adjusting her skirt as she came out. She bumped right into her brother.

"Mano! What are you still doing here!? It is late!"

"Si, Victoria…you are very late this morning." He said, pointedly.

Neither one of them could think of a single other thing to say.

Mano watched as his sister blushed ….as he felt his own face reddening.

Suddenly, she flung her arms around him and whirled him around til they both nearly toppled down the steps.

Laughing, she pulled away from him. He thought she had never looked more beautiful or happier.

"Oh, Mano!" She exclaimed, "why didn't anyone TELL me?!"

Fin


End file.
